


Lonely with You

by EdenM



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But Overall Mostly Fluffy and Happy So No Worries Yall, But Probably Not the Smuttiest of Smut Ever, Canon Typical Childhood Abandonment Issues, College, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hopefully Eventual Smut, I like to cuss sorry, I'm not British But the Setting Is So Try Not To Let It Bother You When I Get Shit Wrong, Is Simon Snow Gay/Bi?, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nice smut, Pride and Prejudice Rip Off of Sorts, Slow Burn, TBH Probably Not, TW - Minor Depression/Angst, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Will These Boys Get It Together?, Will it Stop Baz from Pining if He's Not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdenM/pseuds/EdenM
Summary: Welcome to My Non Magical College AU Pride & Prejudice Rip Off. Simon, Penelope, Micah and Agatha are friends from boarding school. Dev, Niall and Baz are friends from a different boarding school. They are all about to start at the same university in London though. Baz and Simon meet at a party at Agatha's flat. Sparks and confusion ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Penny**

I come home from an exhausting day, my very last day of my internship at the Natural History Museum of London, where my dad works, and I sigh, because I find Simon in my bed asleep. What has he done all day?

Why didn’t he get up and start packing or moving stuff into our Uni dorm already? At least do some of our laundry?! He has been out of sorts all summer, of course, so I’m not surprised by this development.

Fucking Headmaster David, I hate the douche. He was the only father figure Simon had ever known and Simon still hasn’t recovered from their falling out. I sit on the edge of the bed and scan over his bronze mess of curls. Just thinking about the Headmaster, I can feel my blood pressure rising and a familiar rage filling my belly.

I know I’m not Simon’s sister, but I feel like I am. And when someone hurts (breaks) your family, you want to break that person’s face in two. You want to destroy them, their home, their world and everything they love. You want to watch them burn. Metaphorically speaking.

I hate that the Headmaster pretended to care about Simon like a son, calling him son, giving him special treatment that no other student at school enjoyed, bringing him birthday and Christmas gifts and frequently bringing him into his office to touch base. He plucked him out of obscurity to offer him a scholarship to one of the most prestigious schools in the country, like he was his goddamned savior or something. All because of Simon’s magnificent arm. Simon was the most powerful hard hitter the World of Cricket had ever seen. Probably the best there ever was and maybe the best there ever will be. At 11, scrapping street games together, he could already hit the ball farther than most professional batsmen could. And he only got more powerful after that as he honed his talent at one of the best school teams in world.

He holds a bloody place in the Guinness Book of World Records! Although he had a ruthless coach, it was really Headmaster David who called all the shots in the program and micromanaged everything the coach did. I swear, he cared more about cricket than academics and we are one of the best bloody schools in all of England. I graduated top of the class, and I was Simon’s best friend, and I honestly doubt he could even tell you my last name. Because I’m a girl. He had no use for girls. Misogynistic arsehole.

  
All he cared about was Simon. I’ll tell you one thing. I had my radar up from day one. Simon was so innocent, pure and pretty, even at 11 when all the other boys were so awkward. I watched the Headmaster like a hawk over the years, for any signs he might be interested in Simon for something more than cricket. Thank heavens, I never found it. He really just cared that deeply about a silly sport with a ball and a bat. Pathetic.

So, yeah, I’ve always been overprotective of him, even though I’m actually a month younger than he is. Or so we assume. Simon was an orphan, and he grew up in the foster system. He was dropped off at a police station when he was an infant and nobody knows the exact day he was born. For some reason he was never adopted. So unusual – a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed baby boy! How he could have been left to rot in Care homes is beyond me. One of the caregivers at Simon’s orphanage told him that every time a couple would come in to look at him, he’d scream his bloody head off. It made potential adoptive parents worry that he was autistic, or a crack baby or had fetal alcohol syndrome or something, and nobody would choose him because of it. Way to make him feel like more shit, “caregiver” (laughable name). Like it really is all his fault. Like he’s been defective and unlovable since day one.

Once again, I feel rage rising in my throat like bile. I’m mad at Simon – a little bit – for being a bit of a hot mess right now simply because he hurt his arm and might not ever be able to play cricket again like he used to. (Really, is that a reason to live? I think not.) But more than that I’m just mad for him. Because he never had a fair shake. He never experienced real love until the day I met him. I chose him to be my best friend. I chose to love him. And I’m the only one. So yeah, of course that makes me a bit of an overprotective psycho where Simon is concerned. I can’t help it. There’s so much to love about him.

But right now, I just need him to get up. So I stand up and quickly slam my butt back down on the bed to give it a good shake. Then I card my hands through his hair and say “Morning Sunshine” when he opens his eyes to glare at me. He growls.

**Simon**

“Gahh! Penny. Dammit, I think I might have been having one of the best dreams of my life! You know how nap dreams are always better than night time ones?”

She just peers at me.

“Well in this one I had wings, red wings, and I was flying above the countryside, and I was laughing and I was so happy.”

She’s looking at me with her soft pity eyes. Her “You’re quite pathetic Simon, but I still love you” eyes. Dammit, I hate and love that look in equal measure. It makes me feel safe, but also guilty… ashamed. Like I should be doing more. I know she doesn’t want to make me feel “less than,” it’s just how I naturally feel. It’s an orphan’s curse, I suppose. Especially one who experienced glory and then fell from it.

I’m trying my absolute best not to be depressed, I swear I am. I’m not one to wallow in self pity, usually. But I can’t explain it, I’m not exactly wallowing, I just didn’t feel ready to move on with my life and do anything productive this summer. I needed a break. Sometimes people need a break, ya know? I’ll unpress the pause button when Uni starts up. Next week. I know I will. I’m ready even. Looking forward to the next chapter. Even I’m a little bored with myself and this loser recluse life.

“Well, sorry, not sorry,” Penny chides. “It’s 6:30 pm. I was awake like everyone else in London, so I don’t feel that bad about waking you up. Come on, you need to get up, take a shower and start getting ready.”

I glare suspiciously at her from under my pillow. “For what?”

“We’re going to Agatha’s do.”

Shit, I forgot about that. I technically never said no, but I also never said yes.

“Yeah, uhm…. I’m not really…”

“Nonsense!” she yells loudly at me, scaring the shit out of me a bit, if I'm honest.

“I’ll not take no for an answer. You’re going, that’s it and that’s final,” she says, giving me her best stern mommy face.

“Ugh, fine, fine, fine. But, I hate you, I really do.”

“You love me and would literally die without me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Si… I didn’t mean … I’m sorry…”

“I know! I’m kidding.”

I get up and head for the bathroom so I don’t have to look at her furrowed brow any longer.

“Just take a shower you numpty, and put on something nice. I’ll pick it out for you.”

“Yes mom!”

After I come out of the tiny en suite with a towel wrapped around my waist, Penny mock fans herself at the sight of my half naked body.

“You’re ridiculously adorable, you know that? Micah’s lucky I think of you strictly like a brother.”

“You mean son,” I mutter under my breath.

Penny heads into the bathroom and I look at the clothes she picked out for me. My nicest pair of jeans, predictable. And a simple white and red contrast raglan. I’ll look like a bloody Abercrombie and Fitch model. But I suppose that’s just my aesthetic. Why try to dress against type? The shirt does fit me nicely, and you never know who you might meet at your gorgeous ex-girlfriend’s posh-ass party, after all. I shuck on my vans and head downstairs for a bowl of cereal. I’m starving.

Four bowls of Rice Crispies and two episodes of East Enders with Priya later, Penny comes down looking right fabulous if I do say so. She’s wearing a black fit n flare dress with a belt that makes her look even more like a timewarp from 1960 (but in the best possible way) and soft pink glasses to match her soft pink hair. I think she even blow dried it?! It looks much less curly than it usually is.

“DAMN you’re gonna give Micah a stroke lookin so foin!” I cheer admiringly as she does a full twirl and jauntily throws her cardigan over her right shoulder.

Mitali comes out with cell phone attached to her ear, gives us both a warm smile of approval and shoos us out the front door. “Tell Agatha hello for us,” she says as we close the door.

We walk a few blocks to the tube. And I’m feeling right perky. We start dancing and singing “Let’s Get it Started In Here” and then switch to “Hey Ya” because we retro fools like that. I love to tell Penny to “Shake it like a Polaroid picture.” Early 2000s pop is the best pop, let’s be real. Once we’re on the tube, Penny puts her head on my shoulder and I give the top of her head a little kiss, and an elderly lady looks over at us like we’re the cutest couple she’s ever seen. And, honestly, we are.

No matter what happens, I’ll always be fine, because I’ve got Penny. I know that deep down. And I imagine it’s the same way people with good parents probably feel. We meet Micah at the only hole in the wall pub in Agatha’s rich tosh neighborhood, and as I predicted, Micah's jaw drops when he sees Penny. He looks at Penny like he's a groom on his wedding day, catching his first sight of his bride. And it makes my chest hurt a little because damn if I wouldn't like someone to look at me like that.


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz meet and chat at Agatha's party.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Agatha**

I told Penny to be here by 9 at the latest to make sure I had some old friends to help me meet and entertain all the new random ones that were invited. Of course, it’s after 10 now, and there are about 20 people here, and I maybe know two of them. Finally! I hear Pen’s loud laugh as the three amigos finally grace my door. Whatever…. Simon looks fit as usual. Micah looks cute/nerdy as usual. And Penny, oh my god, Penny looks lovely! Did she DO HER HAIR??!? I’m shook.

**Simon**

Okey, I miiiiggght be just a little bit buzzed. Micah bought us all 3 shots of whiskey. He said in America you would never roll into a house party stone sober.

Penny could only handle one. So Micah and I actually had 4 shots of whiskey a piece. Oops!

I roll into Agatha’s feeling a little soft and fuzzy round the edges, but in a great mood. Jesus. Aggie’s place is amazing. Literally everything in here is white, gleaming and gorgeous, like Agatha herself. Giving me a warm smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes, in white short shorts and a gold crochet top and tan skin everywhere, like a California dream girl. I’m not interested in her anymore, but I can’t stop myself from thinking “I’d take some of that, if she was offering.” It’s not a real desire. I have had that, and it’s lovely, but not…. filling. That’s the best way to describe it. She’s a cool girl and a good friend. But as a love interest, she’s runs shallow. Not materialistic, just the opposite of deep. Her feelings just don’t run deep. Or mine don’t for her. Or something, not really sure.

But I wrap her in a ginormous bear hug and swing her around for a full 360 anyway, because I’ve missed her and maybe something light, bright, familiar and surfacey is just what I need right now.

We all make ourselves a drink and wind up plopped down on Aggie’s enormous white slipcovered couch. I’m looking around at all the new faces, wondering if they all will go to Imperial or not.

“Who are these people?” I ask Agatha. She shrugs.

“I literally invited two people I just met on campus last week, and this is what happened," she waves her arm around at the thirty odd people crowding her flat at the moment.

“Minty invited a few of her friends from school who are going here now.”

They look like everyone else we went to boarding school with. White, rich, well dressed, bored. Penny and Micah and I are the only non-rich people here, I’m certain of that. They dove for the Nintendo switch controllers as soon as they sat down and are in a heated Mario Kart race right now. I’m sat with my arm around Aggie thinking maybe we should give this another go. It really does look and feel right, on paper at least. But then three blokes show up and she pops up off the couch eagerly. Guess she likes one of them. No one else at the party besides us got that reception. I size up the competition. One guy stands out immediately as possibly the most handsome boy I’ve ever seen. Crikey, I’m not even into guys, but he’s fucking fit, that’s what he is. Probably a male model.

He shakes Aggies hand and gives her a wide smile. So I guess that’s not the one she met on campus, then. It looks like the short dark one with the thick eyebrows is her man. There’s a tall sorta goofy looking ginger as well. The gorgeous one (is it normal to call him that in my head?) is looking at me now. He noticed me staring at them, oh great. He’s got long dark hair that falls just above his shoulders, a severe but elegant widow’s peak, light pale skin and dark eyes. He looks like he just walked off the set of Interview with a Vampire. He’s wearing grey pants that look soft and fit like glove, and damn, he’s got a really intense stare. He’s probably an arsehole who thinks he’s better than everyone. (Because he probably is.) Too bad, I might’ve liked being someone like that’s friend. Maybe he could help me pull girls.

He’s still staring kind of aggressively, and I shiver and look away. When I glance back I notice he’s stopped looking at me and is eyeing up Aggie now. I wonder if I somehow managed to piss him off? I haven’t met him yet, so that seems unlikely. Oh, well, just shake it off, Snow. I decide to turn my attention to the Mario Kart game and see if I can get next. I slug down the rest of my gin and tonic as well, and hop up to make another one. Slow down cowboy, a little voice in the back of my head says.

For the rest of the night, I keep mentally clocking where Gorgeous is and what he’s doing. I can’t stop, I don’t even know why. I never catch him looking at me, but I always feel like I just missed his gaze. Maybe he’s just better at this cat and mouse staring contest than I am. Because I’m pretty certain he somehow notices me every time I look at him even though I never see him turn his head. Christ, this is weird. I have no idea what is happening, but I assume it’s just being drunk. And obviously more than a little bit thirsty after a long summer cooped up inside. Something is making me feel hot around the collar.

I decide to head out to Aggie’s balcony for a breath of fresh air. I enjoy the quiet and the cool night breeze for just a minute or two before the patio door opens, and fuck, it’s him – Gorgeous – with a pack of smokes. He elegantly slides out and nods his head at me. He pops a fag in between his lips and holds long-fingered hands up, looking at me once again and nodding for permission, I guess, before lighting up.

“G‘head, mate,” I say, for some reason with an overexaggerated accent like I'm Eliza Fucking Doolittle. Fuck fuck fuck. Why do I even care?!?!

He smirks a little, but not necessarily in a mean way. Okay, that’s good. Maybe not an arse then.

“Can I bum one?” I ask, even though I don’t smoke. He raises his eyebrows and nods, slipping his fingers into his pack again to fish one out for me.

“Thanks. Uh. I’m Simon. Snow. Simon Snow.”

He laughs like I just told him a joke. Then he looks at me again closely.

“Like the cricket player?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“From Westminster?”

“Yep,” I say, blush rising to my cheeks under his surprise scrutiny.

“I saw you play last year at Eton. You look…. different…. Your hair….”

“Yeah,” I say and put my hand up into my hair and tug at my curls. Something I do a lot when I’m nervous. Last time I played at Eton, it was the first game of the term. I would’ve been coming straight from Care, so I had a short buzz cut then.

I put my fag up to my lips and wait for him to offer me his lighter. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to have to verbally request a light.

Suddenly he draws closer to me than I expected and I feel my heart beat in my throat all of a sudden, and then he cups his hand around his matte black Zippo and lights my cigarette for me. It’s been over a year since I tried one of these foul things. Thank Jesus I manage to inhale and exhale without coughing.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be playing professionally now? The way I heard it you were the second coming. A big fucking deal.”

I shrug, annoyed, and concentrate on inhaling and exhaling as smoothly as I can.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You got injured in the final game, didn’t you? So you’re not able to play anymore?”

I shrug again. “I had an operation. I’m on the DL, but I’m playing for Imperial now.”

“Oh. So you’re here on athletic scholarship, then,” he says more than asks. And I get the feeling he’s less than impressed. What a git. Still hasn’t told me his name, the git.

“Yeah,” I say.

And then we both remain quiet for a while. A little longer than is comfortable. I’m pretty sure this guy is just a straight up arsehole. I thought we were kind of – I don’t even know what to call it – flirting a little bit earlier, with that intense game of eye tag we were playing. But now I’m quite sure I’m just going mental. What would I even do if he was flirting with me? Would I actually kiss a bloke? This bloke? I am suddenly picturing it in my mind and …. not hating the mental image …. and I feel a tug in my groin and heat creeping up my neck into my face. My throat feels dry and I struggle mightily to swallow. I stub out my cigarette after only consuming half of it.

“See ya gorge--” I say, because I can’t fucking control my mouth, apparently. I almost called him Gorgeous, fuck. Fuck! Hopefully he thinks I said George and that maybe I think that’s his name for some reason. If he asks me I’ll tell him Aggie said his name was George.

Agatha and Eyebrows are on the couch next to Penny and Micah. There’s not really enough room, but I tell Penny and Aggie to budge up anyway and plop in between them. This causes Eyebrows to get up and ask Aggie if she wants another drink. She says no, but I say, “I’d love a gin and tonic, mate, thanks!” He’s not going to refuse me, even though that was rude as fuck, because he’s trying way too hard to impress her.

Fucking Git (no longer Gorgeous) walks back in as I settle my arm around Aggie again, and he strides past us over to meet Eyebrows and Ginger at the bar.

Against my better judgement, I strain over the party noise to make out their conversation. “So, what do you think? Should we stay a little longer?” Eyebrows says. “Up to you, there’s nothing here cute enough to tempt me. You’re with the only attractive person at this party,” Fucking Git says. Ginger apparently agrees. What a fucking prick!!! Nobody in this sea of pretty young things is attractive enough to tempt him?!! Who the fuck does this guy think he is?!

Penny must notice me tensing up, because she knocks into my shoulder with hers. “Hey. All right, Simon?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. Just getting tired’s all. Think I’m gonna head out. You staying at Micah’s tonight?”

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily and pets her boyfriend’s chest, and I throw up a little in my mouth.

“All right. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay love. Be safe on the tube, yeah?”

“Sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz chats with Agatha in an attempt to find out more about Simon.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Baz**

What the fuck is wrong with me?! I meet the cutest guy I’ve ever met in my entire life, and I manage to get his attention and chat him up – alone! – and then I fuck it royally up, somehow, with my awkward silence and haughty comments. I can’t believe I asked if he was on scholarship. Who does that? I was just impressed, actually, but I knew as soon as I said it that it came out wrong.

Am I crazy, though, or did I have the slightest chance with this Simon Snow? I felt like he was looking at me funny. All night. And I made him blush like three times. Do people sometimes blush for no good reason? Like with people they’re not at all attracted to? I don’t know. I wish I knew!

Simon Snow is everything I never knew I always wanted. I spotted him the second I walked in, a casual angel on a white couch. Tawny skin, red cheeks, red mouth, blue eyes, athletic build, moles and freckles for miles, the most fantastic mop of bronze curls.

The kind of hair you want your fists in when you shove your tongue down his throat, or want to watch bobbing up and down in your lap. Christ, I’m disturbed. When he swallowed, I got a boner, I swear to god. I’ve not experienced anything like that since I was 14.

He just seems like a beautiful hot mess. Like a broken, unsure misfit. Like my perfect match. You expect someone that famous and talented and goddamned gorgeous to be the most confident guy in the room. But he was downright bashful. And fuck if that didn’t make him so much cuter!

He left the party five minutes ago, and it felt like the sun suddenly disappeared. Like all the air was sucked out of the room. I didn’t get his number. Didn’t even tell him my own fucking name. And he didn’t give me a second glance before he left.

Why did he call me George? What was that all about?

I wonder if he’s with this Agatha chick, or what? He sat next to her and had his arm on her at least twice that I saw. And acted a bit possessive of her with Dev. Fuck, I can’t take it if he’s straight. I just can’t. I don’t even want to know if he is. Think it might be better (for my mental stability) to keep him strictly as a fantasy. Not seek him out. Not find anything else out about him.

Nope, fuck that. I am weak and I need more. I’ve never felt this way before. I knew I was gay almost my whole life, but I never fell for any boy. Just fooled around with one guy at school, and once or twice with strangers from a club.

We’re going to be at the same school, anyway. Possibly part of the same social set. I should just chill out, see if I run into him nonchalantly on campus. Not likely to have any classes with him, I’m taking mostly music classes this term. If I don’t see him after the first week, I’ll friend him on Instagram or something. Or maybe that’s weirder than just friending him now? Shit.

**Agatha**

The party has thinned out and it’s past 3 am. I’m on the couch with Dev and he’s lighly stroking my shoulder, and it’s nice. His friends Baz and Niall are here, eyes closed, possibly asleep? I wish I had met Baz at the Registrar instead of Dev. Baz is a fucking revelation. He seems uninterested though, detached. I’m getting a gay vibe. He’s just too fucking cool, stylish and graceful.

Or not? Soon as Dev got up, he started eyeing me and now he’s sidling over like he’s gonna make a move. Like he might just swoop in and take a shot and Dev would say fuck all about it. Baz has alpha status, gay or not, that much is clear. I wonder if he’s royalty or something. A second cousin or something? I’m going to look him up on the register as soon as they leave.

“Agatha,” he drawls, taking my hand in his. “What a lovely party. Thank you so much for inviting us.”

“My pleasure, Baz. What an unusual name. What’s your full name?”

“Ahh, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, at your service. I never go by my first name though, just Baz or Basilton, sometimes. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Agatha…..?”

“Wellbelove.”

“Wellbelove. What a fittingly lovely name for a lovely little doll like yourself. So tell me everything. Where did you go to school, how do you know everyone here?”

“I went to Westminster. With Simon, you talked to him earlier, right? And our friend Penelope, who was here with her boyfriend Micah. He’s from America but did a study abroad with us in sixth form. There’s a handful of us Westies going to Imperial this year, though most of our classmates chose Oxford or Cambridge or somewhere in America.”

“I love London too much to imagine going anywhere else, don’t you agree?”

“Exactly!!”

“We’re going to be good friends, Wellbelove, I can feel it.”

“Friends, yeah…” I say, unable to conceal a tinge of disappointment in my voice.

“Well, yeah, but only because I’m not into girls. If I were you would be the first on my list. I don’t give a fuck if my cousin saw you first,” he smiles deviously, dashingly.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Haha, you have a discerning eye, Agatha Wellbelove. And I can always tell a kindred. So tell me, does poor Dev have a shot? Or is that Simon still in the picture?”

“Simon Snow?! Heavens no. We haven’t been together for ages.”

He smiles.

“Ah good, well I won’t tell Dev anything, best to keep him on his toes, if you know what I mean? I’m sure your list of suitors will be as long as my leg before this term is up. Listen, Agatha, I’m afraid I’ve got to head out, I’m beat and have an early football game tomorrow. But, before I go, can I help you clean up?”

“Your manners are impeccable, Basilton, but no. I’ve got a cleaning service coming tomorrow. Let’s exchange numbers before you go, though, okay? I really do want to be your friend.”

“Sold.”

**Baz**

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck my life.

He’s straight.

I’ll just be off killing myself now.

Damn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more exposition and back story, sorry, I will get on with the plot ASAP, promise.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Simon**

 

I wake up late, alone and well rested in Penny’s dark cool cave of a bedroom. Instead of taking the foldaway bed like I usually do, I took Penny’s bed and it is a good deal more comfortable than the foldaway.

 

Funny, this is my last morning as a member of the Bunce household and Penny isn’t even here for it. Kinda makes me sad. I’ve loved being a part of the Bunce clan. I get along with Penny’s siblings far better than Penny does, but I supposed I get along with pretty much everyone. (Except that posh git from last night, that is.) I’m lucky that the Bunces said I could live with them for the summer, I couldn’t face going to another care home, especially since I would be turning 18 and aging out during the summer, but I also didn’t have enough money to live on my own. Financial aid doesn’t kick in until the semester starts. I could have (and should have) gotten a job at McDonalds or something for the summer, but no way in hell that would pay rent anywhere in London.

 

So, Penny asked her parents if they would host me as an “exchange” family member and they laughed and said of course, as long as she didn’t end up falling in love with him like the last exchange student they hosted. I suspect Mitali really loved having me around to mother and take care of. Formidable academic that she is, she’s also a really good mum, and her kids are always busy flitting off somewhere, even the littluns. And Martin is practically never around to talk to. So she and Simon would sit together in the morning over a scone and a glass of tea and have lovely chats about Penny or Pacey or Agatha or sometimes even “Davy.” Mitali and the Headmaster were in school together, and although his name is Angus David, everyone back then called him Davy.

 

“Obsessed with cricket, that one was,” Mitali would say. “I always suspected it was because he was never strong enough to be a starter on the Westminster team. He was on the team but riding the bench for four solid years. He blamed being benched on the coach being prejudice on him for not being a posh WASPY git like the rest of the team. But, he had such an enormous chip on his shoulder about cricket it was like you couldn’t even talk to him about anything else. My best friend Lucy had a bit of a crush on him, but he was oblivious to her. Dead handsome but so awkward, that’s Davy for ya. I think he’s on the spectrum, don’t you Simon? I wish he would’ve gotten some help. I wish we would’ve known what ‘neurological difference’ were back then.”

 

After she mentioned it to me, I had to agree, he probably does have a neurological difference. The problem was, I couldn’t tell if it was the kind of disorder (like Aspergers) where he inadvertently wouldn’t pick up social cues and might accidentally hurt someone like me, or whether he maliciously, callously manipulated me for his own purposes a la the classic Hollywood movie “sociopath” or borderline personality disorder. Either way if you really boil it down, I shouldn’t be hurt by someone like that not actually caring about me – because they don’t care about anyone. It’s not like Penny pulling the rug out from under me, or something. There’s obviously always been something off about him. But I didn’t really see it when I was younger, not until after I fell out of his favor. I just took his intense interest in me as a sign that he liked me and was proud of me, like a son.

 

The day I blew out my shoulder in the championship game, he rushed me to the hospital himself. Didn’t even stay to see his own team finish the rest of the game. The doctor asked to speak to me alone, and I said to go ahead and tell me whatever it was while the Headmaster was there. “Simon, I’m afraid you may never be able to play again, son,” the kindly doctor said. Before I could even process the news, I had to deal with the headmaster’s reaction. His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. He put his head in his hand and stayed like that for a full minute. I was fairly certain he was crying.

 

I just had to lie there awkwardly staring at the doctor. Finally I just said, “Thank you for giving it to me straight,” to get him out of the room. The headmaster, the supposed “adult” in the room, didn’t say one word to the doctor or me, just kept his head down while breathing heavily, as if on the verge of a panic attack. Then I had to try and grab his hand with my bad arm in traction to ask if HE was okay. As if it was his fucking arm. His fucking future. His fucking career that just went down the drain.

 

I’ll never forget the look on his face when he finally did look at me. Cold as ice. Fucking ruthless. Like he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. And he hardly ever spoke to me again, except to call me to his office one time before Christmas to tell me the good news, that the board had agreed to let me continue to stay at Westminster for my last semester so I could graduate with the rest of the class. The semester was OVER ANYWAY, what had the plan been, to kick me out as soon as the championship had been won? He made me feel like shit, like trash that didn’t belong at his school. And he had the gall to tell me the “Good News” in a way that made it clear he thought he deserved a medal for charity. Like I owed him and from now on, the tab was running. I was so pissed off and hurt, but I didn’t say anything to him except “Thank you, sir.”

 

Thank god for Penny, I don’t know what I would have done that last semester. She was with me during the operation, and brought me home for Christmas. And I slept for something like 3 weeks straight. Back at school I just focused on getting into university. It wasn’t so hard to focus while at school. But summers and school breaks, that’s when the depression would set in. And I’m so lucky I had Pen to pull me through.

 

**Penny**

 

When I get home, Simon and my mum are making biscuits and look like they’re besties. I roll my eyes at Simon and say, “Seriously? We’re supposed to be packing!” But I admit, they’re a cute pair, the two of them. We are moving in to our dorm room together. We got the only coed dorm, Longbourne Hall. And I’m thrilled about being Simon’s roommate. I wish we could’ve been roommates at Westminster, I would have risked expulsion far fewer times, always sneaking in to hang out with my best pal. Micah will be at Longbourne as well as a resident advisor, and that means he will have his own room. Which is perfect for our situation, if you ask me. I get my own private room with both my best boys. Truth is, I’m not sure why I’m worried about Simon packing up. He has only one duffel bag’s worth of items. It’s good we’re moving into a furnished dorm, not getting an unfurnished flat together, I think. Plan is Agatha's agreed to meet us outside my house in an hour with her Volvo station wagon to deliver us and our things to the dorm. She’s even offered to help us unpack, which will be great, because there is much to gossip about following that party of hers last night.


End file.
